The Odds
by hollygwood
Summary: Hunger Games AU. All the Glee kids are from different districts, none of them know each other until they're all thrown into the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games arena where friendships and relationships are formed while the world watches. Klaine mainly.
1. District 1

**The Odds.**

**Right. I'm not sure if this will take off or not. I know there's a lot of Hunger Games type AU's going around right now and I really wasn't going to add to the pile but this came into my head and wouldn't go away and I got really excited about it and wrote like ten thousand words. **

**It's going to include the whole glee club. There WILL be character death, I can't promise how much but major characters will die. However Kurt and Blaine will NOT die. This is a Klaine fic but there'll be lots of other ships getting their moments, given how many of them are in it. **

**I hope you enjoy. If there'll be smut in a chapter I'll let you know, but it won't be for a good few chapters. **

**I don't own Glee and I don't own The Hunger Games. **

_Chapter 1 – District 1. _

Kurt was pretty sure it was the knot of dread in his stomach that woke him that morning. It wasn't the light, because the ragged curtain was still drawn and anyway when he checked there was only the beginnings of morning light touching what he always thought to be a pretty ugly place to live.

His stomach was somersaulting, tied in knots, butterflies flipping through – whichever corny, overused expression you wanted to use, Kurt felt it.

It was reaping day, and he'd had a bad feeling about it from the get go.

Not just because his name was in the reaping ball ten times (which wasn't as much as a lot of the kids he knew, but a lot more than some) but because he had this feeling he couldn't shake.

The feeling that he was going to be selected, and Kurt prided himself on his intuition, on knowing himself. He had never been wrong yet.

Not that he was sharing said feeling with anyone. He would volunteer himself before he worried his dad with anything like that. His dad. The main reason he'd do anything to avoid the god damn stupid games.

Kurt didn't have any friends. He couldn't ever remember having any, not even when he was a little kid. When all the others paired off to play soccer or braid each other's hair or whatever it was kids did, Kurt just...didn't. He'd always been different and for that reason he'd always been alone.

As he got older his differences became only more striking. The fact that he grew up into an attractive yet delicate looking boy with perfectly coiffed hair, pale creamy skin, a high voice and an intense interest in clothes meant he drifted even farther away from the crowd.

Neither girls nor boys seemed interested in getting to know him, and he knew the fact that he was gay didn't really help, but at the same time he knew it wasn't just that, as much as he'd like to blame that. It was because he acted superior to them, and he knew it.

He felt superior though, felt too good for the district, wanted to do something that wasn't just work in a factory. He wanted to design clothes or sing to lots of people. He wanted to get out of district one and never look back.

Such ideas were sneered at. You were born you worked you lived and you died. Simple as that. Hopefully you married someone you loved, if not you married someone you could get along with. Kurt didn't want that either. He wanted love that stopped him in his tracks, felt like a punch in the stomach. He wanted someone he couldn't live without.

So not only did nobody ever particularly want to befriend Kurt Hummel, he didn't particularly want to befriend them. To him, any friends here were futile, pointless, unnecessary. They were all uninteresting people anyway. Apart from his father, pretty much everyone in district 1 could go screw themselves.

Kurt glanced out of the window and realised the sun had completely risen, and he pulled himself out of bed, dressing quickly and preparing breakfast for his father. He wished more than anything he could give him more, but they weren't well off, and food wasn't always easy to come by. They had never staved, but nonetheless they had to ration carefully. Kurt's mother had died when he was eight years old, and his father was all he had family wise, and was the most important person in his world. Looking after him always came first.

Time passed way too quickly for either Kurt or his father, Burt's, liking. His dad looked even more tense than he did as they sat at the table together, talking about anything that wasn't the reaping.

However, time always has to pass, and pass it did, until it was time for Kurt to leave. Capitol law stated that parents had to stay behind at the houses whilst reaping took place, something which pleased and upset Kurt at the same time. Every time he wasn't picked he ran home as fast as he could after, to let his dad know they were safe for another year, while at the same time he knew if he _was _picked, the last thing he'd want was for his father to see it happen.

"I love you, Kurt." His dad whispered, pulling Kurt close and whispering the words into Kurt's hair, "so much."

"I love you too, dad." Kurt replied fiercely, before pulling back. "Don't worry, ok? About anything. I've got this."

"I always worry about you kiddo, always will. You're my baby." Burt smiled sadly, and Kurt hugged his father one last time before walking out and towards the town centre where the reaping always took place.

It was Kurt's fifth reaping, and he knew the drill by now. File in...line up...blood taken...line up again. Watch the scared faces around you. Wonder who it'll be. Wonder if it'll be you. Watch a badly dressed Capitol citizen tell you stupid propaganda about the games. Same old, same old. It was Kurt's fifth reaping, and they never got easier, just more repetitive, more infuriating.

He'd learnt to tune out of the stupid Capitol citizen by now saying _Happy Hunger Games _and _May the odds be EVER in your favour! _Because it wound him up too much to listen to.

_The odds weren't in my favour the second I was born into this godforsaken district. _Kurt thought darkly, as the woman blathered on about dedication and sacrifice, like she'd ever sacrificed anything in her life, except possibly her fashion sense, given the horrific make up, hair and clothes she was sporting. In all five years, Kurt had never seen a well dressed Capitol man or woman.

"Ladies first." The overdone, horrifically ugly and made up to the nines Capitol woman screeched, and she dipped her manicured nails into the reaping ball. "Your female tribute is..." Pause for dramatic effect, like it's some kind of fucking game show. "Quinn Fabray!"

Kurt couldn't help blanching. This was a turn up for the books.

The odds were always in Quinn Fabray's favour. Her father owned the biggest jewellery factory in the district, meaning he and his wife and their two daughters, Quinn, eighteen and Hope, thirteen, had always been filthy rich and not afraid to show it. For this reason Quinn only had the minimum number of names in the ball. Claiming tesserae, which gave a family enough grain and oil to survive on for a year per person and added one extra of your name to the reaping ball, was something Quinn Fabray would never have to do.

And yet she had just been reaped, proving that the odds didn't always sway to the poor or the desperate, but sometimes to the rich, the beautiful, the seemingly lucky. Kurt was unsure how to react to it.

Because Quinn was all of the above. The most beautiful girl Kurt had ever seen (because if he were into girls, he would definitely be into Quinn, if she wasn't such a bitch) with her long blonde hair and creamy skin and lithe figure and almond shaped hazel eyes. And she was rich because of Daddy's business, and went around flitting from boy to boy, enjoying the high life while most of the district (like Kurt) struggled, working every hour they could just to feed their family the basic minimum food they could afford.

So Kurt should have felt smug that she'd been reaped, but Kurt wasn't like that. He would never be like that. Had gone through enough reapings, enough heartache, had lost enough. He had a shred of empathy, he would never find these games anything other than a horrific, sickening way of the Capitol getting the enjoyment they so clearly craved, the monsters.

In short, Kurt was snarky, sarcastic, sometimes rude and always honest, but he wasn't mean. No one, and he meant **no one **deserved to go through what Quinn was about to be put through.

He glanced up and saw Quinn walking shakily towards the stage, where two peacekeepers helped her up on stage, and she stood beside them, trembling like a leaf, her head bent so her soft blonde hair covered her face.

"Quinn Fabray, everyone! Yay! I do love this bit!" The Capitol woman said, and Kurt had to stop himself from snorting aloud as she continued. "And the male tribute joining Miss Fabray in the games this year will be..." She rustled her fingers around the papers and flicked one out elegantly, before opening it and reading the name.

"Kurt Hummel."

Kurt felt like he'd been plunged underwater, a roaring filled his head and his ears and he could feel every eye in the courtyard on him, and his heart was hammering so hard he felt like he might faint.

Was this what going into shock felt like? His feet wouldn't move, his head felt heavy, his lungs felt tight and his breathing shook.

"Come on, Kurt. Come on, up you come you lucky boy!"

Lucky? Even in his shocked state he wanted to slap that Capitol bitch into next week for ever, ever suggesting that he was lucky to be selected. His entire body felt numb, right down to his lips, and he swallowed a huge lump in his throat as he walked forward on trembling legs, two peacekeepers at his side. He climbed up and took his place beside Quinn, who still refused to look up from her pale blue pumps.

"Well go on! Shake hands!" The shrill woman encouraged, and Quinn finally lifted her head up and reluctantly held out a limp hand. Kurt took it and shook it, and then they were both turned to face the crowd of relieved, shocked people in front of them.

He could see it on their faces. _Poor Quinn Fabray. That faggot Kurt Hummel won't last five minutes. Thank fuck it wasn't me. _

"District one your tributes for the seventy fourth annual hunger games, Quinn Fabray and Kurt Hummel!"


	2. District 2

**Thank you to the alerts, favourites and reviews, I'm glad there's some interest in this because I've got a lot of it mapped out and I'm really enjoying writing it. **

**The first few chapters will be posted daily/every other day depending on how busy I am because they're all pretty short. They'll get longer after a few, I promise. **

**I don't own glee or the hunger games. **

_CHAPTER 2 – District 2._

"I'm going to be reaped, Mom. You really need to accept it because it's going to happen and I don't want you to cry."

"Santana Lopez you stop talking like that right now, and I mean it." Maria Lopez scolded from where she stood at the stove, stirring a mixture in a pot, her youngest daughter Louisa clinging to her leg, whining softly. Santana frowned down at the two year old before pulling her off her mother's leg and resting her on her hip.

"Cheer up chicken!" She cooed at the whimpering little girl, before turning to face her mother once again. "Mom I'm not trying to upset you, I'm trying to be honest. I know, I can feel it, and I'm in that...I'm in that ball thirty six times and I...I just know and I don't want you to hope because hope is useless." Santana said, as softly as her voice ever got, walking over to her mother and placing a gentle hand on her waist.

"No, Santana. Stop it. Stop this crazy talk and be helpful. You've got a few minutes before you need to leave for reaping and Carolina needs dressing for it. It's her first and you need to make sure she looks nice. Get her in, get her washed and keep her calm. And for goodness sake, Tana, don't talk to her with this mouth on you, she'll freak out."

"Of course not." Santana snapped, "I know how to look after my sisters." And she stalked out of the room and into the street, where several kids were playing soccer with a lump of rock.

"Where's Carolina?" Santana asked, hands on her hips, to a small dark haired boy scuffing his worn to nothing sneaker along the ground.

He said nothing but pointed to a dirt track off from the shacks of houses they lived in, to where Santana saw the eldest of her younger sisters, playing in the dust with a friend. She sighed and walked over.

"Come on honey, time to get ready." Santana said gently, and Carolina looked up with big chocolate brown eyes, fearful but determined. She was a Lopez, and they didn't scare easily.

"Ok. Bye Lexi." Carolina nodded to her best friend, who didn't turn twelve for another month and was therefore safe from reaping for another year. Santana felt an unfair swirl of jealousy at the happy go lucky Lexi, running a worn Barbie doll up and down the dirt mounds, chattering to the doll softly.

Santana would have given anything to keep Carolina eleven forever, but you can't mess with time, and three weeks earlier Carolina had turned twelve, and her name had been put in the ball.

Only once though, thank god. Santana had been fierce about never letting anyone but her sign up for tesserae.

Carolina linked hands with Santana and they walked back to the house and into the tiny room that four of them shared. Santana pulled out the blue dress they had managed to buy cheap from the market for Carolina's first reaping, and laid it out on the bed, turning back to her sister.

"Go and get washed, baby. Don't come back until you're fully clean. I mean it, Mom will have a fit if you're not." Carolina smiled and nodded and left, and Santana sat down on her sister's bed, the dress in her hands.

Presently her sister returned, dust and grime free, wrapped in a thin, threadbare towel. Santana pulled the dress over Carolina's head and braided her wild black curls into submission, before kissing the top of her head softly.

"You look beautiful, honey." Santana said gently, quickly braiding her own dark hair and pulling on the dress she'd worn the last three reapings, a simple navy button up.

"Not as pretty as you." She said solemnly, and Santana laughed and pulled her sister close.

"You know that's not true, munchkin." Santana laughed, running a hand over Carolina's braided hair and sighing. The two sat in silence for several minutes, as Carolina played with a loose thread on her dress.

"Stop that." Santana scolded gently, and Carolina's hands dropped to her lap.

"What if I get picked?" Carolina mumbled softly into Santana's chest, and Santana pulled her closer, her heart rate speeding up.

_Then I'll volunteer. I won't ever let you go through that, baby. Never. _

"You won't. Your name is in there one time. You'll be ok, this is just something we have to go through, we'll be home later with Mom and our annoying little sisters having dinner like always, and tomorrow you'll go to school and I'll go to work and it'll all be normal. Ok, sugar?"

Carolina nodded softly. "Now go out and show Mommy how pretty you look, ok? I'll be out in a second."

Carolina did as she was told, and Santana glanced at her face in the mirror. Hard angles, full lips, big dark eyes, dark hair, strong eyebrows. She guessed she was beautiful in some way, she'd been with several boys, but she didn't much care for beauty.

Or boys, to be totally honest.

Santana had dropped out of school over a year ago, when she'd realised the longer she stayed, the harder things would be financially for her family. So she now worked in stone masonry, and she was good at it, better than most of the men in their twenties she worked with.

She was nearly sixteen and she already worked harder and longer and sometimes stronger than many of them, because she had to. She had no choice.

She had a big family, five sisters and her mother, and unless she worked fifteen hour days and signed up for all the tesserae she could, they wouldn't eat and they wouldn't live. Letting down her family had simply never been an option for Santana.

She wasn't scared of being reaped because she was scared of dying or killing or fighting. No that was all easy. She knew she was intelligent enough, fearless enough, strong enough and athletic enough to take at least half the other tributes out without turning a hair.

No.

She was scared of her family starving, of not being able to cope without her wage or her tesserae. She was scared Carolina would take the tesserae, or Alinda, who turned twelve in just a few months, would start to take it.

A few minutes later she found herself walking to the reaping, Carolina's hand in hers. Carolina began to shake when they separated, but other than that did not react.

Just before they got separated into age groups, Santana grabbed Carolina's shoulders tightly.

"Listen, baby. Relax and breathe. It won't be you. I love you, and I'll just be over there, ok?" Carolina nodded tearfully, and Santana kissed her head before going off with the rest of the fifteen year olds.

She tuned out during the happy hunger games la la parade, and the video that tried to make it seem like sending kids off for slaughter for their own entertainment wasn't such a bad thing...and then it was happening.

"_Your female tribute for this year's seventy fourth annual hunger games is...Carolina Lopez!"_

Santana felt her blood run cold, and she could feel her heart beat in her brain, her ears, could feel her hands shaking.

No...how could it be her? How could the odds _not _be in Carolina's favour?

"Carolina, where are you?" The capitol voice sung cheerily, and Santana glanced over to the twelve year olds and saw Carolina raise a shaky hand and begin to walk forward.

No..No..No..

"NO!" Santana screamed, and every head turned, as she shoved her way through the girls and boys around her. "NO NOT HER!" A silence as she finally made her way to the front. "I VOLUNTEER! I volunteer as tribute!"

"Our first volunteer!" The capitol man grinned, at the same time as Carolina began to scream and sob. One of Santana's work colleagues and a guy she'd been with, Jonny, raced through the crowd and picked up Carolina, who was sobbing heartbreakingly and screaming Santana's name.

"Sssh baby it'll be ok!" Santana yelled, as the peacekeepers frogmarched her up onto the stage.

"And what's your name, brave one?" The capitol man grinned, and Santana narrowed her eyes at him, before turning to face the crowd.

"Santana Lopez." She breathed shakily, her eyes returning to her sister, who was still being held by Jonny.

"Well isn't this exciting, district two's first volunteer! And who will be joining our brave lady over here?" He reached into the reaping ball and Santana felt sick at how much he was clearly loving the excitement of the reaping. "Joining Santana Lopez, your male tribute is...Mike Chang!"

Santana vaguely knew Mike. His family were of average wealth, much better off than the Lopez' but not what you'd ever consider rich. Mike was a sensitive seventeen year old who worked at the masonry and danced in his spare time.

Santana felt her heart melt a little as he walked up to stage, his face fearful, before she hardened it as they shook hands and were presented to the district as tributes.

They were now in competition. Santana had to win this thing, had to get back to Carolina and her family, and the only way of doing that would be to kill every other tribute. That now included Mike, like it or not.


	3. District 3

**This story is very obviously AU, and in this chapter that'll become even more obvious, because I have given Artie the power of walking, because I can, basically. **

**Enjoy and thank you for the feedback thus far. **

**I do not own Glee or The Hunger Games, they belong to Fox and Suzanne Collins respectively. **

_CHAPTER 3- District 3. _

"District three! I give you your tributes for the seventy fourth annual hunger games, Sugar Motta and Artie Abrams! Shake hands!"

Sugar glanced at the male tribute with disdain and awkwardly reached out her hand to limply shake his, before retracting it as quickly as possible.

Of course Sugar was concerned about her being reaped, about the fact she was about to be put into an arena with twenty three other kids and expected to fight or die, but right now her biggest concern was that she'd just shaken hands with the biggest dork in district 3, _Artie Abrams. _

And that was saying something, because given district 3 was the _technology district, _geeks and nerds and dorks and any other word used to describe the pasty, smart ass, glasses wearing losers that populated Sugar's town, were rife.

But Artie was definitely the biggest geek. She didn't think she'd ever seen him with anyone his own age, only the adults, and he'd always be talking about whatever new electrical device he'd invented, and Sugar couldn't really care less.

Artie wore glasses and sweater vests and corduroy pants and his hair was side combed and he walked like he was stepping on invisible stones all the time.

Also he was poor. Sugar knew his inventing job didn't exactly keep him and his mom in the kind of luxury to which Sugar was accustomed, she knew this because her father owned the biggest factory in the district, and he knew who signed up for tessera and who didn't.

Artie definitely did, which was why she wasn't surprised he was reaped.

Her, on the other hand. Definitely a shock, and one she was pretty sure hadn't sunk in yet.

It was only when Sugar looked around and realised she was standing in a small room with ugly beige furniture and green walls that she became aware that she and Artie had been led off stage and away from the beady eyes of the crowd.

"What now?" She snapped, turning to Artie and folding her arms across her designer shirt. "Will they get Daddy in here?"

"I think we get to say goodbye to our parents, yes." Artie replied softly, flopping down on to a hard wooden chair and staring at one of the blank walls dumbly.

"Will he be able to get me out of this?" Sugar demanded, furrowing her brow and wondering why Artie didn't seem to care about her. Geeks like him didn't get girls like Sugar looking at them, let alone talking to them!

"What?" Artie turned to face her, as if only just realising she was there. Sugar huffed.

"I said, _geek, _will my father be able to get me out of this? Will they get another tribute?"

Then Artie LAUGHED.

"What's funny?" She snapped, and Artie stopped the humourless laugh and narrowed his eyes at Sugar.

"This may come as a shock to you given how _daddy _has done everything for you your whole life, so I'll spell it out slowly for you." Artie stood up and began to enunciate overly clearly, his face closer to Sugar's than she felt comfortable with. "This is something your dad cannot get you out of. Nobody can get you out of this, Sugar Motta. Whether you like it or not, in two weeks you will be dropped into that arena and forced to kill to stay alive. Your daddy is useless to you now. No amount of money can buy you out of this."

"But my father owns Motta Technology..." Sugar began, and Artie interrupted her with an indignant snort.

"The Capitol don't care who you are, Sugar." Artie snapped, pacing the room and glancing up at her with anger filled eyes. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen." Sugar spat, lips pouted. "What's it to you?"

"So I'm guessing your name is in that ball what...four times?" Sugar nodded.

"Duh. As if I'd take tesserae, it's for poor people. Gross."

Artie ran a hand over his hair and returned to his seat. "Exactly. I've taken tesserae for myself and my mom every year since I turned twelve, and I'm seventeen now. Whether you like it or not, the odds weren't in either of our favour today, and now we're stuck together. So do **me **a god damn favour and shut the hell up, because we're both tributes, and we're going to be stuck with each other until one of us dies, because to be frank, Sugar I don't think either of us will last more than an hour in the games!"

"Sugar?" Sugar turned as the door opened and she heard her father's voice.

"Daddy!" She yelled, running over to him and throwing herself in his arms. From her position in her dad's arms she saw a meek woman with light brown hair take a seat beside Artie, tears sparkling on her cheeks as she pulled her son close, and she turned away, her stomach churning.

"I don't want to do it. Don't make me do it." Sugar said tearfully, as her father sat her down and knelt down in front of her.

"Baby I don't want you to have to do it. Trust me. I would do anything to stop this, anything. Any amount of money, anything they wanted from me, I'd give them. But I can't." He took Sugar's hand and squeezed it. "Just be careful, Sug ok? Just keep your wits about you and keep safe. Run, hide, anything. Don't get into direct fights just keep yourself safe and hidden as long as you can, alright darling? I just need you back here with me after."

"I really have to do this?" Sugar felt her stomach drop as what had happened really sunk in. Her father nodded, his face twisted.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry. But...this is just how it is."

"Time's up!" A peacekeeper stood by the door, gun in hand, gesturing for the parents to leave their children.

"No!" Sugar clung to her father, who hugged her once more before pulling away.

"I have to go. Remember what I said, Sugar. Be careful, please. I love you."

"I love you too." Sugar replied, as her father and Artie's mother were hustled out of the door by the impatient peacekeeper, and Sugar couldn't help but think she'd seen her father for the last time.


	4. District 5

**An FYI – obviously there isn't enough glee kids to fill up all twelve districts so for now I'm leaving out those districts because you don't need a full on description of their reaping. When other characters come in later you'll know about them. **

**Hope you're enjoying. **

**I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games, they belong to Fox and Suzanne Collins respectively.**

_CHAPTER FOUR – District 5. _

The second Bethany Evans opened the door, her face tear stained, her mouth wobbling, Sam pulled her down beside him. His whole body shook with terror, but he forced himself to focus on her.

"Mom, calm down. Please, listen to me. I need you to listen or going will be even worse." Sam said firmly, gripping her arm. "_Please!"_

"I'm listening..." She stammered, pulling her hands away from her tearstained face and holding one of Sam's hands tightly.

Sam nodded. "Mom, you need to look after the kids. Jessie's only six and Tom's only eight. They need you, and you can't flake out on them. You can't not come home until six am, not anymore. Not now I'm gone."

"Ok," Bethany mumbled, pulling Sam close, but Sam pulled away.

"No! I need to know you understand." Sam took a deep breath. "Mom, I love you and I know how hard it was when Dad walked out on us, but...he's not coming back, and you need to start acting like a parent again."

"I'm so sorry I've let you down, Sammy." Bethany whispered tearfully, as if now, when Sam was about to go off to fight and most probably die in the games, she had finally realised she had a son.

"It's not about me, mom. I'm sixteen, I'm a big boy now and I can look after myself. I've had to, and that's ok. I'm not...I'm not mad anymore." Sam sighed tiredly, before gripping his mom's wrist again. "But I will be mad if you let my brother and sister down anymore than you already have. I won't be here to look after them. I won't be here to sing to Jessie when she has a nightmare, which, just so you know, she has most nights. I won't be here to bandage Tom's knees when he falls over yet again. I won't be here to tell them that you do love them, that when you leave us alone all night, it's not because you don't love us. My wages won't be coming in anymore. You need to show up for work. You get fired, you'll all starve. Tom and Jess will be taken away and separated. That can't happen, understand mom? I asked Alex to keep an eye on them and you, but he's got his own family and he can't be always checking up on them. This is all on you."

Bethany nodded, wiping her eyes. "I know. I'll look after them, Sam. I promise."

"Good." Sam sighed defeated. "It's too late for me, but it's not too late for them. If by some miracle I make it home, I want to come home to my brother and sister healthy and fed and...looked after."

"Just...just please try and come home." His mother said, before collapsing in tears again, and Sam pulled her close and they sat that way for several minutes, until the peacekeepers barged in and demanded she leave.

"I'll try. I love you, Mom. Look after them." He whispered, a lump in his throat distorting his words as his mother was dragged out, still sobbing.

When she'd gone Sam leaned his head against the wall and forced the tears he could feel back down his throat.

From now on, they wouldn't see him cry. He wouldn't break, wouldn't let these games break him like they wanted. His mother may have failed him but his sister and brother never had.

The door opened a few minutes later and the female tribute was shoved in the room, the door closed behind her sharply. She glanced up through curtains of shining dark hair, that reached way down her waist. She was Asian and pretty stunning looking, with kind brown eyes and an open face. She wore the same clothes as the other girls, but all in black, and wore the lace up boots the boys wore. She was unlike any girl Sam had seen in district five, and he smiled weakly up at her as she walked towards him shyly.

He realised he'd barely looked at her during the reaping, first because he felt so horrible she'd been selected, and second because he'd then been selected and couldn't think of anything other than his brother and sister, weak and starving because their mother had gone off with another man yet again and left them to go hungry.

"Are you ok?" She asked gently, before shaking her head and sighing, taking a seat beside him. "Sorry, stupid question. You look about as ok as me."

Sam chuckled, the noise void of humour. "I'll admit I've been better."

"Look..." Tina started softly, "you don't know me, but I sort of know you. We...you don't remember but we used to play together when we were kids."

Sam stared at her as if to jog his memory, but felt nothing. He shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry. Day to day life feels so hectic sometimes I forget my own brother's name." Tina laughed lightly.

"Hey, it's ok. I just never had many friends when I was younger. My parents were always big on me getting an education and getting a good one. They always wanted me to get out of district five. I guess they got their wish." Her tone was dull but pain sparked behind her eyes, and Sam had to catch himself from holding her hand. "Anyway, you were...just one of the nice kids."

"I'm glad you have good memories of me." Sam replied, his smile forced.

Tina moved closer to him and whispered in his ear, quick and low; "my mom promised to look out for your brother and sister. I heard you talking. I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but...just don't worry, ok? They'll be fine."

"Why...why would you do that for me?" He asked, his tone bemused, and Tina sat back and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"Like I said, you're nice, Sam. You gave me at least one happy memory of this god damn miserable district, even if you don't remember. Surely I owe you for that in return." She smiled sadly, and Sam returned the sad smile.

"Thank you, Tina." He murmured, and she grabbed his hand, and they sat together like that until the peacekeepers collected them to take them to the Capitol.

And all the time Sam felt Tina's soft, warm hand in his, and saw her kind face, and smelt her rose petal smell, he couldn't help but think. As much as he tried to block the thoughts, they still came.

_If you ever want to see your family again, if you want to survive, you'll have to kill her. Her and twenty two other innocent teenagers. _

Sam honestly didn't know if he had it in him, if any of it was worth that, if pushing himself, losing his character and becoming a mindless killer was something he was even capable of, or something he could ever imagine himself doing.


	5. District 7

**Right I've had a couple of comments I want to address, and I'm sorry for any confusion :) Feel free to skip this really long authors note. **

**One, I had a review which I didn't totally understand but which I think was referencing why this was listed as a Kurt and Blaine story when there isn't much of them so far. That's simply because while this is Klaine centric, there will be other pairings and if I don't introduce everyone it just won't make sense, given how AU it is.**

**I also had a comment regarding the districts and how unlikely it would be for the career districts to be in poverty. I know and I do apologise, it's something I thought about long and hard before I started writing, but I couldn't just use the poor districts when I wanted to include all the glee kids, so I sort of bent the hunger games the way I wanted it. What can I say, it's AU on all counts. I understand totally why it's confused or annoyed some people though.**

**And sorry the update took ages, I suck. **

**I don't own glee or the hunger games. **

**CHAPTER FIVE – District 7. **

"Your female tribute is...Brittany Pierce!"

Finn Hudson cringed, fisting his hands to his sides and wincing as he glanced across the crowd to where he saw the confused blonde biting her lip, a friend whispering something in her ear as she guided her forward.

Why did it have to be someone he knew? Why did it have to be Brittany, who could barely read, let alone survive in the damn hunger games. Why did it have to be anyone? Why did it even happen?

He sighed resignedly as he watched her walk on to the stage, not looking particularly upset. This made it worse to Finn, as Brittany clearly had no idea what she was walking into.

It wasn't like Brittany was one of Finn's best friends, but they hung out in a similar circle, she'd been with almost all of his friends from the lumberjacks at some point, though not Finn, who'd always seen the girl differently to the rest. She was breakable, and naïve, and more to the point, Finn couldn't see her lasting five minutes in the games.

Five seconds more like. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration until he realised people all around him were pushing at him.

"Huh?" He said dumbly, glancing around.

"Bro, they said your name!" One of his friends said gently, a hand on his shoulder. Finn frowned, while feeling his stomach drop into the ground, but he couldn't say he felt surprised.

Finn didn't usually work on gut feelings, but he'd had one all day, had the ominous feeling that it would be him. Not to mention the fact he'd taken three lots of tesserae every year since he was twelve. He was now eighteen. His last year. So close to getting through it.

That didn't matter now. He'd been reaped, and he'd have to leave his family, particularly his mother whom he had always been closest too, and the only way he'd ever get back to them would be to slaughter twenty three others.

Finn glanced around, every eye in the square on him, and he knew exactly what they were thinking.

They were looking at his rippling muscles, his six foot four stance, his workers hands, his strong jaw, and they were seeing a winner. Those that knew him from the lumberjacks knew he could lift bigger, work faster, and generally get shit done better than anyone else, and those also simply knew him as Jim Hudson's boy; the big, aggressive drunk's son. Must take after his dad, could probably fight like a soldier, strong enough to kill half the tributes without trying.

They were all thinking the same; district seven might have a winner this year.

They couldn't have been more wrong. Finn may have been tall and big and strong, and his dad may have been a drunk fighter, but he never taught Finn to fight, never did anything other than smack him around and force him to take tesserae because he couldn't be bothered to work. Finn was gentle, wouldn't hurt a fly, and was useless with any tools that weren't used to chop wood. He honestly didn't think he could hurt another person if he tried, and was clumsy and useless at sport. Also, although he was certainly a little sharper than Brittany, he knew he wasn't clever enough to think himself out of difficult situations. He'd dropped out of school at fourteen to work, but even so he knew he'd never be an intelligent person.

Chopping wood and supporting his mother was all he'd ever been good for. Now he wouldn't even be able to do that. He'd die, and his mother would be alone with his drunken, aggressive father. Finn's legs trembled. His own safety meant nothing if he couldn't guarantee that of his mother.

"Finn, bro you need to go up."

Finn shook himself out of his thoughts and began to walk, on legs that felt like jelly, towards the stage. Everything felt like a blur from then on, shaking Brittany's hand, being presented to the district as the tributes, being taken into the back room, holding his crying mother in his arms, promising that he'd try everything to win.

Then having her taken away.

He didn't know what to do, or what was awaiting him. All he knew was that he'd never felt more terrified or powerless in his life. It wasn't just the fact he knew he couldn't win, knew he wasn't good enough, it was the fact that he was being put into an arena with twenty three other human beings, not to mention Brittany Pierce. He honestly didn't know if he could take another person's life, even to spare his own. He didn't feel like he had it in him.

After a while the door opened, and Brittany was shoved into the room in an ungainly manor by a peacekeeper. Finn frowned as Brittany fell against the wall, her face crumpled up.

"Hey, watch yourself, you'll hurt her." Finn snapped, squaring up to the shorter, but definitely stockier, peacekeeper.

"I'll do what I want. I'm in charge here." The peacekeeper replied angrily, and Finn snorted.

"You're really going to hurt me? A tribute?" Finn couldn't help but smirk, but the smile vanished from his face as he felt the man's hand on his throat, and felt himself be shoved into a wall.

"You little shit I'd take you out no matter who you are." His face was so close to Finn's he could feel the man's breath on his chin. "But it'd be a waste of my time. You'll be dead in minutes, you moron. Her too."

"Don't talk about her like that!" Finn struggled out of the man's grip and shoved him against the wall, a hand under his chin, over his throat, pressing hard enough to make breathing difficult. "And don't touch her like that ever again. Don't shove her, don't hurt her, don't even go near her. I want a new peacekeeper assigned to us. See to it, alright? Because if you don't I will hurt you. I may be a moron, but I'm bigger than you and I could take you. I could." The peacekeeper nodded, and Finn released his grip. The man rubbed his throat and threw Finn a filthy look, but left the room without a word.

Finn turned to Brittany, and saw she was curled up on the ground, her legs pulled up to her chest, her eyes on Finn. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, and one finger was tangled up in the blonde curls.

"You're nice. You stood up for me." She said, as if that decided things. Finn smiled weakly before collapsing down onto a chair and glancing down at the arm that had so recently been pressed against the man's throat.

His mind wandered back to the thoughts he'd had just minutes earlier. About how he didn't think he could kill anyone. He thought of the peacekeeper shoving Brittany, and his derisive words to Finn.

He realised he didn't know himself at all. Not like this, not in this situation. He didn't think anyone really did.

You can't judge how you'll act in the games, he realised with a hint of sadness, because they take away all that you are, all that you've ever been and all that you thought you knew about yourself.


	6. District 8

**This one's short but I like it, didn't realise how much fun I could have writing this character. **

**I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.**

**CHAPTER SIX – District 8**

Sebastian Smythe had life in district 8 down to a fine art, he reckoned.

As districts went, he figured it was a pretty good one to live in. He had an easy job selling luxury material on to the rich men up at the Capitol, which meant he could live comfortably with his mother and step father without worry of starvation or ever having to take the tesserae. He had men and women at his beck and call sexually whenever and if ever he wanted them (Sebastian certainly didn't want to put a label on himself, sex was sex and as long as they were good at it and fairly attractive, what they had down there didn't bother him.) He had good clothes, decent food, enough alcohol to keep him merry well into the night with his friends, and most importantly he was worshipped in the town by men and women alike, friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, family. Everyone loved Sebastian, everyone. Not once in his seventeen years of life had he ever really wanted for anything.

He wasn't afraid at the reaping. His name was in the lousy ball six times, six times and considering the amount of poor people taking tesserae, he figured one of them would definitely be up.

And if not, surely one of his friends would volunteer for him.

Because everyone loved Sebastian Smythe.

"Morning gorgeous," Sebastian grinned lazily down at the girl who had woken up in his bed that morning. It was the day of the reaping and Sebastian had gotten even more drunk than usual the night before, because despite not being worried at all, reaping wasn't a pleasant experience for any district.

"What time is it?" The girl mumbled, long dark hair pushed off her face. Ah. Sebastian remembered her now. He'd seen her around the district a few times, and always thought she was pretty hot, and last night she had deigned to join their group for drinks.

She had been a gabber, and Sebastian had wondered at first if she was worth it, given how snobby she acted and how much she talked about music and stuff that quite frankly, Sebastian saw as irrelevant, but then she'd crossed her legs in a skirt so short it should have been illegal, and Sebastian lost all intelligent thought and slipped her more apple cider, and then she'd ended up in Sebastian's bed, as they always did.

Sebastian glanced at his watch and lit up a cigarette, taking a long, satisfied drag on it and grinning lazily up at her. "It's only nine. Relax darling, there's still plenty of time to get ready for the big show."

"How are you so chilled about it?" The girl, whose name Sebastian currently couldn't quite recall through the fog of cider and sex, asked as she climbed out of bed just in her underwear.

Sebastian took another long drag on his cigarette and lay back a little to enjoy the view as she pulled a dress on over her naked body and began to collect her things.

"Doll face, we aren't gonna live forever no matter what happens. If I do get reaped, which is highly unlikely given how many unlucky poor sons of bitches there are in this district, I wouldn't have wanted my last night of freedom to be...anything other than enjoyable." Sebastian grinned lazily, stretching, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"You're incorrigible, Smythe." She snorted, and he shrugged.

"And you're sexy." She rolled her eyes once more and kissed him on the cheek.

"See you at reaping."

"Our female tribute is...Harmony Olsen!"

Why was that name so familiar to Sebastian, why was that name so familiar? He scrunched up his face and glanced around to see where the girl stood.

And...Oh god. Sebastian felt his heart drop to ground level as he saw 'Harmony' walk shakily on stage.

Harmony, the girl with long dark hair and bangs, with big eyes, who never shut up.

Harmony, who had been in his bed not five hours ago.

"Shit!" Sebastian murmured, crossing his arms and avoiding Harmony's eye line totally because this was awkward.

"And onto the male tribute, which will be..." The asshole from the Capitol made more of a display than was necessary of picking a name out of the ball before announcing it grandly. "Sebastian Smythe."

Sebastian's mouth fell open. For all his talk, he genuinely hadn't expected his own name to be drawn from the ball. His luck had never failed him in his life until now.

He didn't move for several seconds. He waited for one of his friends to volunteer for him.

Nothing.

Silence, mocking him. He glanced up and saw Harmony's face, the shock painted over her features, tears in her eyes over her own reaping.

The two of them reaped together. What were the odds of that?

The odds, which had never been anything other than good to Sebastian were mocking him, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt tears pricking in his eyes, felt them burning in his throat.

He swallowed them back down and blinked, glancing around at the faces watching him.

"Sebastian? Where are you?" The irritating sing-song Capitol voice bleated, and Sebastian glanced up, pushing a strand of brown hair off his forehead. He clenched his shaking hands into fists took a deep breath.

Then he swallowed once again and gritted his teeth. _Find your bravado, Sebastian. Find it and don't let it go. Don't let them think they've beaten you. They'll never beat you. Don't go down without a fight, ever. _

He raised his chin and stepped forward. "Here I am! Don't start the party without me!"


	7. District 9

**This chapter is insanely short so I'll be posting another one later today to make up for that :)**

**Sorry as usual for lack of updates, life just gets in the way constantly huh?**

**I still don't own Glee or The Hunger Games. **

**CHAPTER SEVEN – District 9. **

"So who did we get from district nine?" One capitol worker said, as a sheet got passed to them. The two sat in the extravagant Capitol office doing their nine to five job, that at this time of year pretty much involved just sifting through the mountains of paperwork the hunger games produced, including page after page of personal details about each tribute.

Being from the Capitol meant the workers usually used this as an opportunity to get some 'intel' on the tributes, so as to decide who to bet on. Betting on tributes, as far as most Capitol citizens were concerned, was the best and most exciting part of the games.

"No one special it seems. Boy's a problem kid, girl's pretty big, an only child, just a Mom. Neither seem like a fighting chance for nine. Shame. It'd be nice for them to win. They haven't for years." He glanced at his co-worker. "See for yourself." He passed the other man the sheaf of paper just sent in from the nine reaping two days before.

**THE SEVENTY FORTH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES 2012. **

**DISTRICT NINE:**

**TRIBUTE 1:**

**NAME: Noah David Puckerman**

**AGE: Seventeen**

**FAMILY: Deceased**

**JOB: Field worker**

**CRIMINAL RECORD: Yes**

**SCHOOL: Drop out**

**AMOUNT OF NAMES IN REAPING BALL: 14**

**PERSONAL NUMBER: 4759595QR**

**TRIBUTE 2: **

**NAME: Lauren Jane Zizes**

**AGE: Fifteen**

**FAMILY: Mother, field worker. Father, deceased. **

**JOB: n/a**

**CRIMINAL RECORD: n/a**

**SCHOOL: Stretton Field School, District 9**

**AMOUNT OF NAMES IN REAPING BALL: 8**

**PERSONAL NUMBER: 6837496YU**

"Yeah, seems nothing out of the ordinary. Do you reckon they have a shot?" The first man, named John Joe, asked casually, adding the sheet to the pile of tribute information they had thus far.

The second man, whose name badge read _Alexo_, shook his head. "Nah. I mean the boy might go far, maybe top ten, top five if he's lucky. He's big for a seventeen year old, looks strong. Plus he's got a lot of excess anger, a lot of hate inside him." Alexo shrugged. "The Hunger Games arena might be the only place where hating the world and everyone in it is a help not a hindrance."

"Are what about the others? Any winners? Who's your bet gonna go on this year?" John Joe grinned, sifting through the papers of the other eight districts, almost rubbing his hands together with glee. "I like your boy from district eight, he had spark. Might go far."

"Smythe?" Alexo actually barked out a harsh laugh. "No, man. Won't last five seconds. He's all smoke and mirrors, that one."

John Joe blushed. "Well I'll be watching him." He glanced down at the papers again. "What about the tall boy from seven? Hudson something?"

"A possibility." John Joe shrugged. "Not the brightest spark as far as I can gather, but his obvious strength and height will help him. Nah, my money so far is on the girl from two."

"A girl? Are you serious right now? You'd put your hard earned money on a chick?" Alexo laughed out loud at this, and John Joe frowned.

"Hey, Alexo, man. Did you see that firecracker? She looked like she could kill ten boys taller than her just with a look. Plus she clearly grew up in god awful poverty, which is usually the clincher. Every winner in the last thirty years pretty much, has been poor as a church mouse. It's a push for them. A push to a better life."

"It's your cash." Alexo shrugged. "Sucks for district one, though."

"Yeah, they've won more games than any other district ever. Had a four year streak." John Joe grinned, going back to shuffling papers. "Guess that'll end this year."

"Totally. That girl who looked like a good gust of wind could blow her over, and as for the faggot." Alexo whistled. "I doubt either of them will make it past the battle at the cornucopia."

"You took the words right out of my mouth." John Joe replied, "now help me out. We need to get all this paperwork done in time for district ten reaping tomorrow. Less talk, more work. Maybe I'll buy you a drink after."


End file.
